


If Anything

by Dana



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Fluff that was supposed to be Angst, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I'm not cut out for this.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Anything

**Author's Note:**

> Written because of an **anonymous** request on a tumblr angsty sentence starter meme. They asked for: Doctor/Rose, 'I'm not cut out for this.' It was supposed to be angsty, but it didn't want to behave. Pseudo-fluff with the Doctor and Rose in Pete's World. Beta by **talkingtothesky**. ♥

'I'm not cut out for this.' The Doctor tosses the screwdriver down and it skitters away, ends up underneath the sofa. He's accomplished a lot of things in the 900-something years he's been alive, but the three months he's existed as a half-human half-Time Lord metacrisis... well, suddenly it's all too much. He's meant to run. Doing the domestics thing in a dodgy little flat in a universe where bananas don't even exist? This is way out of his league. 'What was I even thinking?'

What does he ever think, really? It's really not that bad a flat. That must be some of Donna's presence in his mind – it's everywhere, really. He never feels like she's very far away, there's some of her right inside his head. She'd really dazzle this place up, and he doesn't just mean home décor. He misses her. He knows he's not the only one.

Maybe she'd be right though – could just be that they need something bigger. A proper house, maybe? Something further out from the city.

'What was that?' Rose always knows how to make an entrance, as subtle or as grand as needed, and always (if she's even wearing any) in the most sensible of shoes. The Doctor leans back to take in the full sight of her as she carries their cups of tea over, both of them steaming.

'I really need to have a look at what Torchwood keeps in its storehouses, is all.' He flashes her a cheery grin, accepts his cup of tea. 'Screwdrivers shouldn't exist unless they're sonic.'

She grins back at him, sits down on the couch. 'If you want to have a look at what Torchwood's got down there, you'd have to agree with dad and sign on as an, oh, actual employee. He's not gonna let a civilian mess around with all that alien tech.'

The Doctor sighs, knows it's wistful – he also knows that Rose has a point. 'Well, a metacrisis can dream.'

She's still grinning down at him, and it's _that_ specific grin, the one that makes him feel young and old at the same time, like anything in the world is possible, in this one or another. And he supposes it really must be, seeing how he's alive at all – and all because of her. He takes a sip of his tea, praises its perfection, then sets it aside and digs about under the sofa to grab his sadly unsonic screwdriver. Because he's close enough to feel the heat of her body radiating out beyond the tight confine of her jeans, he presses a kiss to the side of her knee while he's there.

She smiles down at him, reaches out with one hand to ruffle his hair. The gesture is slight, yet meaningful, and it's somewhat funny how it fills him with such purpose. 'You're acting daft.'

'A bit though – but I'm really clever about it, don't you think?'

Her smile widens, bright like a flower, or the sun, or a star being born.

'I'm happy, you know that – right?' Because sometimes he doesn't even know it himself, and if it wasn't for Rose, supporting him and bolstering him, he really doesn't know where he'd be. If she hadn't kissed him back, all those months ago...

She leans down, fingers brushing at his cheek, his chin, and then she's so close, warmth and sweetness, and she's kissing him again.

'I know – I am too. Wouldn't choose anything else.'

Which means he's beaming as he sits back, screwdriver in one hand, cuppa in the other.

'Just... tell me... what exactly are you doing to the toaster? Wasn't broken, last I checked.'

He shrugs, feels decidedly impish. 'Doesn't mean it didn't need fixing.'

One of her eyebrows arches up, elegantly amused. '...just don't set the kitchen on fire again, and you won't hear me complain.'

He rolls his eyes, flashes a cheeky grin her way, pleased to see she's smiling back. Some days he exists in a storm of emotion, unable to really get a grip on this new life of his, especially seeing just how _different_ it is from the last. All he needs to do is take it one day at a time – that's the right idea, Space Boy.

Everything's possible, all because of Rose – if he still believes in anything, he believes in her.


End file.
